


every night i burn (dream the crow black dream)

by doctorkilljoy



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, Death, Happy Ending, It's weird and sad but happy, M/M, Murder, No really there is a happy ending., Not Beta Read, Temporary Character Death, The Crow AU, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24560110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkilljoy/pseuds/doctorkilljoy
Summary: Pete Wentz, Andy Hurley, and Joe Trohman were murdered before Halloween. Now one year later, Pete has risen from the grave by the power of a mysterious crow. He's out for revenge, and along the way he runs into an old flame. Patrick Stump is in deep trouble, and not just because a dead man is still in love with him.An AU based off The Crow for the Lights! Camera! Peterick! Peterick Creations Challenge
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20
Collections: Lights! Camera! Peterick!





	every night i burn (dream the crow black dream)

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty much what it says on the tin. Please heed the warnings. 
> 
> Title is from _Burn_ by The Cure

They finished loading the last of the equipment, and when the van doors closed, Andy said, "We fucking suck."

"We weren't that bad," Joe said.

"Yeah we only got two bottles thrown at us this time," Pete added.

"Two bottles and a shot glass," Andy muttered.

"C'mon, cheer up. Word of mouth is spreading, it'll pick up soon," Pete said.

It was true, they did suck. They weren't as good as they could have been and they all knew it. Pete wondered if they blamed him. After all, he was the reason they couldn't keep their original singer. Pete could admit to himself he was a moron, he sure as fuck wouldn't say so to Joe and Andy.

"So… Is he going to be there tonight?" Pete asked, not the least bit subtle.

Andy sighed. "Yeah, somehow I managed to convince him to come to the party. He'll probably be the only one there without a costume."

"I still can't believe you're having a Halloween party _before_ Halloween," Joe said and Andy shrugged.

"I have to work that day and I didn't want to miss it," Andy replied. "That reminds me," he poked Pete in the chest. "Your shit is still in my van. It better be fucking gone by tomorrow, got it?"

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go get our money," Pete said.

They went inside, Joe and Andy trailing Pete. It was late, almost four in the morning, and the bar was empty. They went to the backroom to get their money from Sal, the club owner, expecting a typical exchange of petty but good-natured insults. It wasn't until they opened the door that they realized their mistake.

There were four of them, white and wearing garish yet derelict clothing, like something out of a nightmare children's book. A man and a woman wearing old fashioned jesters clothing in red and yellow. A woman with red hair in pigtails, a patchwork dress, striped socks, and combat boots. Then there was a man wearing an entirely green outfit except for a brown flat cap.

Between them, laying back in the office chair, was Sal. Dead. The redhead was carving a Glasgow smile into his face.

Pete slammed the door and yelled, "Run!"

Joe didn't need to be told twice, and he grabbed Andy's hand and they booked it, Pete hot on their heels. They'd just made it to the door when someone collided with Pete's midsection, knocking him to the ground. It was the redhead, who was grinning at Pete as she said, "Should have gone home, handsome!" Pete tried to throw her off, but she was too strong.

The jester people grabbed Andy and Joe, though Andy put up a hell of a fight. The male jester ended up punching him so hard he broke Andy's glasses, knocking him out.

"What should we do with them, Mr. Toad?" The redhead asked.

The guy in green, presumably Mr. Toad, was looking down at Pete curiously. "We'll have to leave their fate to the captain, Pippi. Punch, Judy, get them out to the car."

That was the last thing Pete heard before something collided with the back of his skull, and the world went black.

When he regained consciousness, Pete had a splitting headache, which was the least of his worries.

He was bound, next to Andy and Joe, who were also awake thank God. They were sitting in a room that Pete didn't recognize. It almost looked like a cabin on a pirate ship. "Oh good, you're awake." Pete looked up to see a white woman in a short green dress, kicking back in a chair and filing her nails. "I'd thought that maybe Punch had hit you too hard."

"Let us go!" Pete yelled.

The woman shrugged and said, "No can do. Hook wants you."

"Who the hell is Hook?" Andy asked.

At that, the woman grinned. "Oh, you'll see."

The door opened, and a tall white man with an impressive gray beard came in. He pushed his glasses up his nose and said, "It's time, Tink."

She rolled her eyes and put her nail file away, saying, "Figures. Okay, let's get this show on the road, Mr. Smee."

The nightmare gang from before followed him in, forcing the band to their feet and poking and prodding them out of the room. Pippi was cackling while Punch and Judy danced around them and jeered. Pete struggled against the ropes, but he couldn't break free. The ship motif continued into the next room, which was an office.

Pete could see out the windows, and he knew they must be high up, as he could see the Chicago skyline perfectly. There were floor to ceiling windows and Pete could see a balcony outside. And in front of the windows was a desk, where a man sat with his back to them. When he turned around, Pete wasn't sure if he should laugh or scream.

He was a white guy, wearing a black curly wig like something out of a historical drama, but he paired it with a modern red three-piece suit and a poet shirt. He was smirking at them as he twirled a hook in his hands, like the ones Pete had seen used to move heavy bales of hay.

The man put the hook on the desk and picked something else up. Pete realized it was his wallet and he said, "Hey! Give that back!"

"Oh, this?" The man asked, opening it and flashing Pete's driver's license. "I was simply having a look. I'd thought perhaps we had new crew members in our midst, but fate has different ideas, Peter Pan."

He frowned. "It's Pete."

He laughed. "Can you guess who I am?"

Pete rolled his eyes and said, "A psychotic cosplayer with a hook fetish?"

Joe snorted and Andy groaned.

"Amusing," he said. "I'm Captain Hook. You've already met the Nursery Gang," he gestured to Mr. Toad and the others. Judy waved at them with a demented smile. "Do you know why you're here?"

"No idea. Really! I have successfully repressed tonight's memories," Andy said and Joe smacked his arm.

"Look, seriously, we don't know what happened back there," Joe said. "But it doesn't involve us."

Pete was kind of surprised at them, but then again, Pete was also pretty sure they were going to die anyway, and had no problem saying so. "If you're gonna murder us you can get it over with any time now."

" **Pete!** " Andy and Joe shouted in unison.

Hook laughed. "Defiant to the end, yes that is you Peter Pan." He grabbed Pete's ropes and pulled him close, so close that Pete could smell what he'd had for lunch. "I should kill you now, but what kind of captain would I be if I didn't give you a sporting chance?"

"What do you want us to do?" Joe asked.

Hook pushed Pete away. Tink came forward holding a little gold box. She opened it, revealing a white powdery substance Pete assumed was some kind of drug. It sure didn't look like laundry detergent.

"Take some pixie dust," Hook said. "Think happy thoughts, and you'll be able to fly home. That is if you haven't forgotten how to fly."

Pete was forced to his knees, face being rammed into the box. He couldn't help but inhale, and fuck he still didn't know what it was but it worked fast. He could hear cries of surprise and protest from Joe and Andy, but he didn't care. Everything around him looked like a nightmare kaleidoscope. Shadows moved, the curtains snickered, and then Pete was on his feet again.

Someone was dragging Pete to his feet again and making him walk forward. The doors to the balcony opened, and Pete could see clouds, dark and twisting like talons coming to tear into his flesh. There was a strong breeze coming off the lake, and it was only with the most basic self-awareness that Pete realized the ropes were gone.

"Fly, Peter! Fly back to Neverland!" Hook yelled at him.

Joe screamed, Andy yelled, Pete barely registered that he was falling… Until he hit the pavement.

Pain exploded through Pete's body. He could feel that parts of him were broken and torn, vital parts that he needed to live. It was raining now, and Pete could feel the rain in his lungs. He turned his head to his left. Joe was crumpled on his side, lifeless, one blue eye staring at Pete. The other covered in blood. Pete turned his head in the other direction and saw Andy a few feet away. Pete couldn't see his face, but he could see that Andy wasn't breathing.

Pete coughed, and something wet and thick was coming out of his mouth. He tried to sit up, agony shooting through him with every breath. He wasn't dead, but he would die if he didn't get help. He could make it to the sidewalk, then to the side of the building, pull himself up. Maybe get to his cell phone in his pocket. Call for help.

His thoughts were scattered in a way he hadn't felt before, and he wasn't sure if it was from the drugs or the fall. He knew he had to stand. He had to get away. He wasn't sure how long he'd been on the ground, but they had to know he hadn't--Pete didn't let himself finish the thought. He couldn't think about Joe and Andy.

He managed to flip onto his stomach, dragging himself to the sidewalk. Waiting for him were the Nursery Gang, and Hook himself.

He was grinning down at Pete as he said, "It seems the Lost Boys have forgotten how to fly. But you haven't."

"Let me go," Pete said. He was begging, and he hated himself for it. However, for all the ideation over the years, he didn't want to die. Not now, not like this! With so much left undone. And his parents, his siblings, and his biggest regret… He couldn't give up now.

"Of course," Hook said. "I am a man of my word. Ladies, gentlemen, if you would."

The last thing Pete heard was gunfire. The last thing he felt was rage and pain.

One Year Later

The first thing Pete felt was the same rage and pain. He'd been sleeping, stuck in a nightmare dreamscape of Glasgow smiles and dead blue eyes. Pete screamed and beat his hands against… Was this cloth? What the hell?! He continued to do so, pushing against cloth and metal, then tons of soil. He couldn't breathe, he needed to breathe!

After an eternity, Pete's fists broke through, and he clawed his way out of the damp earth. He was breathing hard, the rain pelting him and freezing him to the bone. He managed to get to his feet, and for a moment he was lost.

The rain was coming down as though the storm of the century were upon him. He was in a cemetery, and behind him was a tombstone with his name on it!

Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III

May he find the peace in death he could not find in life

Pete stared for a moment. Who the hell would pick such a stupid quote for his tombstone?! They couldn't use one of his poems or even one of his lyrics? Sure they weren't Pulitzer worthy but they would have been better than that! And--

He doubled over, falling to his knees as he remembered how he'd ended up in the cemetery. The fall, his friends dead, the bullets. He was experiencing it all over again and he couldn't stop himself from screaming. He clutched his shirt, tearing his jacket as he stumbled out of the graveyard.

The crow was following him, and Pete for the life of him could not figure out why. However, there was something about the bird that comforted Pete, like it was his friend. He walked down the street, trying to get his bearings. He realized he wasn't far from the bar, the last place Pete remembered, aside from the ship skyscraper.

When he turned the corner, Pete muttered, "Son of a bitch."

It was in ruins. Someone had burned down Sal's!

Pete walked in, careful of the fallen beams. The crow flew in after him and perched on what was left of the bar, cawing.

"Yeah yeah," Pete said. "Looks like the Nursery Gang got this place."

He sifted through the rubble, and in the back office, he found a box he remembered. Pete pulled it close and opened it, letting out a sigh. It was from the back of the van, likely the Nursery Gang had dumped it there before they torched the bar. The box wasn't even damaged. Pete pulled out his old notebook, remembering scribbling his darkest thoughts inside.

As he sifted through it, memories came back to him of Joe and Andy. Laughing about a stupid joke that Joe told. Andy finding the quickest route to the next venue. Pete whooping triumphantly when he managed to snag the last box of Twinkies from the gas station. Just stupid, little moments from his life with his friends.

Then he remembered their last moments, and those memories turned from happy to bitter. They'd had a life, and it was stolen from them. Pete hated the Nursery Gang, and Hook most of all. Peter Pan or no Peter Pan he was going to fuck them up.

At the bottom of the box, Pete almost laughed when he found his old Halloween costume. It was something he'd thrown together at the last minute, all black clothing and cheesy makeup. Pete was going to change in the van on the way to the party. The people he was going after were dangerous, and he didn't want them to see him coming.

Pete changed out of his funeral clothes (his mother had definitely picked the suit) and into the costume. Leather jeans, combat boots, a mesh shirt with a high collar, fingerless gloves, and a long leather vest, all black. He then went into the bathroom and painted his face. Pete used black and white paint to make a vicious looking smile with giant, sharp teeth. Lastly, he painted black tears under his eyes.

He stared at himself in the mirror, hardly recognizing who he saw. No one would know him. He walked out of the building, the crow following after him. He was ready, all he needed to do was to find them.

The crow flew up, and Pete stilled as it took to the skies. He could see through the bird's eyes, and Pete gasped. He needed to get to the rooftops. Pete located a fire escape and hauled himself up. As he ran, following the crow, he felt stronger. Faster. Unbeatable. He jumped from one rooftop to the next, and let out a shriek of laughter. This was amazing!

He heard a caw and paused on the edge of a roof.

There was Mr. Toad, just a few blocks away, and he was following someone. Pete's heart nearly stopped when he realized who it was.

Patrick Stump. Mr. Toad was following Patrick Stump!

Pete leaped to the next roof, slid down the fire escape ladder, and sprinted around the corner. He didn't know why Patrick was in Mr. Toad's sights, but he had to stop him. As his feet pounded on the pavement, Pete was struck hard by another memory, this one of Patrick, and it overwhelmed him.

_"I'm sorry, but I can't do this anymore."  
"Why not? I know that I fucked up but I'm sorry! I can fix this!"  
"I don't think you can. Every time I see you I just want to punch you. That's not a good way to keep a relationship going."  
"Joe is going to kill me."  
"Just tell him my mom changed her mind and she doesn't want me in the band."  
"He's not going to believe that."  
"It'll be the official cover story. Please, leave." _

He snapped himself out of it. No time to linger on mistakes now. He slowed his approach to take in the scene.

There was Patrick, carrying a heavy book bag, hunched under an umbrella. He looked pretty damn miserable. Pete wondered if Patrick missed him. Probably not, not with how badly they'd ended. Pete had to tear his gaze away, and when he saw Mr. Toad, his blood boiled.

He remembered how Mr. Toad had laughed as he and his friends were taken before Hook. Toad had been clapping his hands with glee when Hook had pronounced their sentence, and Pete was going to fucking destroy him.

Pete followed Mr. Toad, and when his quarry walked by an alley, Pete ran up and shoved him in.

"The fuck do you think you're doing?!" Mr. Toad yelled as he got to his feet. Pete grinned at him.

"Sorry, didn't see you there," he said.

Mr. Toad pulled a gun out, saying, "Wrong move, dickhead." And he fired.

Pete cried out as the shot went through his shoulder. It hurt, but not as bad as his death had. A cold sensation came over him, and Pete looked to see the wound close up by itself. He laughed, and there was a hysterical edge to it. "I'm fucking Wolverine!"

"What--how?!" Mr. Toad said, getting to his feet. He shot Pete again, emptying his clip into Pete's body. But it was no use; each of the wounds healed within seconds.

"Maybe there is a God," Pete said as he approached. Mr. Toad's face had gone white with terror. He pulled a knife out and tried to slash at Pete, but he knocked the blade out of Mr. Toad's hand. "Remember me?" And Pete grinned at him as he asked.

Mr. Toad's jaw dropped. "It can't be… We killed you! You're dead!"

"Look who's talking," Pete replied. He grabbed the knife from the ground and slammed it into Mr. Toad's shoulder, making him scream. "Why are you following Patrick?"

"What's it to you?" Mr. Toad snapped, struggling to get out of Pete's grasp. Pete twisted the knife and he groaned.

"Why?!"

"I'm just following orders!" Mr. Toad whined. "Please!"

"Whose orders?" Pete demanded, twisting it again.

"Hook's! He said to follow the kid, he didn't say why! Now fucking let me go!"

Pete chuckled, then pulled the knife out and thrust it into Mr. Toad's chest, piercing his heart. Blood oozed from the wound, and Pete ripped the knife out viciously, tearing as much heart muscle as he could. As he watched Mr. Toad sink to the ground, Pete smirked to himself.

He could kill them, all of them. Punch, Judy, Pippi, Smee, Tink, and Hook. They would all die for what they had done to him and his friends. But for now, he needed to find out what Hook wanted with Patrick. The rain had washed the blood from his hands. Pete tucked the knife away on his belt and walked out of the alley.

The crow flew ahead of him, and he closed his eyes and listened.

_It was the same room. The inside of the captain's cabin. Hook was sitting at his desk, reviewing some papers. He looked the same as the last time that Pete had seen him, an insane dandy though he'd changed his hair. His clothes were more respectable now but he still wore a red velvet coat._

_Tink was lounging in a chair by his desk, playing a game of some kind. She looked up when Mr. Smee came in, saying, "Captain, we need to talk."_

_"Yes, Mr. Smee?" Hook asked._

_"We lost him," Mr. Smee replied._

_"Whom?"_

_"Patrick Stump," he replied._

_Hook paused over his papers and looked up at Mr. Smee. "And how is that?"_

_"Mr. Toad was following him, but we've lost contact," Mr. Smee replied._

_He threw the papers to the side, saying, "We need that boy!"_

_"I know, sir, I'm working on it."_

Pete blinked and shook his head. So he was right, Hook was after Patrick. Though why he didn't know. He had to find him right now. Pete tore ass down the street to find him.

* * *

It was late. Patrick didn't want to think about how late because he was so damn tired. His books were three thousand pounds too heavy, and he wanted to lie down. Except he couldn't. After he dropped his books off, he would have to swing by the cemetery. It was after hours, but that didn't matter to Patrick. It was the anniversary after all and he didn't want to skip it altogether.

He shivered to think about it. One year, just one year since Fall Out Boy had been found dead at a derelict building on the outskirts of the city. The cops said they'd been killed somewhere else. Originally, they'd thought it was a suicide since all three had fallen from a great height. But Pete was riddled with enough bullets to make any action movie fan wince.

A murder that was still unsolved and Patrick wanted to cry every time he thought about it.

Sometimes he wondered if he'd been there that night, would he be dead too? Patrick had been angry at first. He'd agreed to go to a Halloween party that Andy and his roommate were hosting. Andy and Joe had pleaded with Patrick to give Pete another chance. They didn't know about the relationship, which was how Patrick wanted it. All they knew was that Pete and Patrick had a falling out, and Patrick had quit the band with the flimsiest of excuses.

Patrick had relented and agreed to hear Pete out, and then when he didn't show up Patrick was worried. When none of them showed up and Patrick had to call his mother for a ride home, he'd been furious. He'd gone to bed angry at them and hoping they all choked on a horse dick.

Then his mother had woken him the next morning with the news his friends were dead, and Patrick's world had shattered. He didn't know what to do with himself. He spent days in bed, unable to move and crying so hard he would throw up or even pass out. The only reason he'd managed to get through the funeral is because his mom had sedated him. She'd asked him not to go, but Patrick wouldn't hear of it.

And now it was a year later, and still, no arrests had been made. Rumors were wild on the Chicago music scene. Some people said that they'd been killed by a cult. Others said they were murdered by one of Pete's exes. Which didn't seem likely to Patrick. Pete liked to burn bridges, but he'd never dated anyone who would resort to murder. Maybe blackmail, at worst.

As he let himself into his dorm, he sighed at how quiet it was. Halloween weekend and no one was there but Patrick. He hadn't gotten close to anyone since the murders, and honestly, he was afraid to. However, he paused for a moment in the doorway. The window was open, which put Patrick on alert. He'd closed it before leaving this morning on account of the incoming storm.

There was someone in the closet. Patrick could hear them moving around.

He didn't have anything on him to use as a weapon besides his backpack which he'd already set on the ground. He reached for the baseball bat he kept by the door, fumbling with it and knocking it over. Patrick lunged to grab it, then turned around just in time for the guy to come out of the closet, turning the overhead light on.

"Boo," he whispered, and Patrick screamed. Then the man laughed, and Patrick paused.

"Pete?!" He said incredulously.

Pete smiled, and it looked horrifying under the makeup he wore. Patrick clutched the bat to his chest and wasn't sure if he wanted to drop it or swing it into Pete's stupid face. Mostly he wanted to cry.

"I… You're dead," Patrick whispered, the bat falling to the ground. He could feel tears on his face and he was probably turning tomato red.

"Yeah, I know," he replied and sat on Patrick's bed. "So like, who picked out my epitaph? I fucking hate it."

"Your mom did," Patrick said numbly. "Am I dead?"

Pete shook his head.

"But you are."

"Yeah, I am. I kinda accidentally got myself murdered."

Patrick frowned. "Who the fuck gets murdered on purpose, Pete?!"

"It could happen! There are some weird people on the internet, Pattycakes."

"Don't call me that!" Patrick snapped. He couldn't contain himself, he rushed to Pete and hugged him hard enough to bruise. Patrick was still shaking, but this wasn't a dream, Pete was far too solid for that. Pete hugged him back, and Patrick was crying into his shoulder.

"Shh, it's okay Trick," he murmured.

Patrick pulled away, then punched Pete in the arm.

"Ow! Dick!" Pete hissed.

"Me?! Fuck, Pete, do you have any idea--" Patrick started, but Pete held up his hand.

"Whatever you're about to say? Think about the fact I'm back from the fucking dead, oh, and that me, Joe, and Andy were viciously murdered, then speak."

Patrick stuttered, not sure what to say to that. So he asked, "Who killed you?"

"The same guy who's stalking you," Pete said.

He frowned. "I don't have a stalker."

"Uh-huh… Did you notice anyone weird hanging around lately? Like a guy in green, a pair of clown twins, or a redhead wearing a quilted dress?"

Now that he mentioned it, Patrick did remember he'd seen people like that hanging around the past few weeks. Wandering around campus or in the case of the redhead he'd seen her in class a few times.

"How'd you know that?" Patrick asked.

Pete's face turned dark and angry. "They're the people who killed us."

"Jesus, why the fuck are they following me around?"

"Their boss wants you for something," Pete said. "No idea what, though. Look, I… I don't know what's going on. I woke up in a grave. I have these weird-ass powers now, and I find out the guy who took me out is after you. I kinda feel like there's some kind of plan to all this I'm not seeing."

"What superpowers?" This was all getting out of hand. Patrick was pretty sure this had to be a result of a seizure or something.

"Watch this," Pete said and held out his arm. In flew a crow from the open window, who landed on Pete's arm then crawled up his arm to sit on his shoulder.

"Holy shit." Patrick held a hand out to the bird, who did nothing more than blink at him. Patrick stroked his feathers, and they were a bit wet but still soft.

"He follows me everywhere," Pete said. "And anything he sees, I see."

"You're full of it."

"No seriously! Also, I've got some like, Wolverine fucking healing factor. See this?" He gestured to some holes in his shirt.

"Yeah."

"Got shot."

Patrick frowned. "I know you got shot, it's how you died."

Pete rolled his eyes. "No, I mean, someone shot me. Tonight. and it's all gone. I'm totally Weapon X now. Allow me to demonstrate." Pete took out a knife.

Patrick scooted back a bit and watched as Pete drew the blade across his palm. "Watch carefully," Pete told him. As he said it, the skin seemed to meld back together, and then it was like nothing had happened.

"What the fuck," Patrick whispered.

"I don't know, I think it's because I'm undead," Pete replied.

"This is too much." Patrick got up from the bed.

"Wait, Patrick!"

He didn't stop to listen, Patrick ran out of the dorm and out into the rain.

* * *

"Fuck," Pete muttered to himself and went after Patrick. Okay, maybe that was a lot to lay on him at one time. But Patrick needed to know the score, and that there were some seriously fucking weird powers at work. By the time Pete got outside, Patrick was nowhere in sight. Pete muttered to the crow, "Find him for me."

The crow squawked and flew off.

Thankfully, it didn't take long. He could see through the crow's eyes that Patrick was two blocks away. Pete's heart nearly froze in his chest as the scene unfolded in his mind's eye. Patrick was in an alley, and he was clutching his arm as he backed away. Punch and Judy were there, each of them holding a sledgehammer and giggling as they inched closer to him.

Pete let out an angry roar and climbed the nearest building to run across the rooftops. He was going to fucking murder those shitheads!

As he ran, he could hear what they were saying through the crow.

"All alone in the dark, widdle boy?" Judy teased.

Punch grinned. "Not safe for widdle boys to be out by themselves."

"Get the fuck away from me!" Patrick said, picking up a discarded soda can and lobbing it at them, making them laugh.

"Spitfire," Judy exclaimed.

"The Captain was right, you are something special," Punch said.

Pete had reached the edge of the building now and looked down into the alley. The crow let out a cry, and Patrick looked up and yelled, "Pete!"

Punch and Judy looked at each other, confused, and Pete threw himself off the roof, aiming for them. When he landed, it was right on top of the pair, knocking them to the ground. He could hear a few bones crunch, and Judy screamed in pain.

Pete got to his feet, saying, "Hi fellas, thought I'd drop in."

Punch got to his feet, saying, "You're dead, clown!"

"I'm not a clown!" Pete said and ducked the sledgehammer as it swung at his head. "I'm a bass player!"

Judy meanwhile was slowly getting up, grasping for her hammer. Patrick snatched it first, holding it like a baseball bat.

"Stay away from me," Patrick hissed.

Pete smirked. Patrick was no damsel in distress, but he was in way over his head. Also, there was that bit where he wasn't invulnerable. He had to get Punch and Judy away from Patrick. He grinned as he said, "Step right up! Test your strength!" He then swung the sledgehammer into Punch's stomach.

Judy, seeming to realize that her partner was in trouble, screamed as she pulled a revolver out and shot at Pete. Judy was shooting erratically, and Patrick had the good sense to duck. Unfortunately, Punch didn't, and Pete was bulletproof. Or at least bullets weren't going to stop him now.

Punch went down with a groan and fell back onto the pavement, blood dripping from the side of his mouth and eyes fixed open.

"Punch?" Judy whispered, stepping towards him.

"Looks like he's had his last performance," Pete told her, then smirked.

"You! You--" But she didn't finish. Instead, she knelt by Punch, crying.

Patrick was standing by this time, still holding Judy's hammer. She still had the gun up and she aimed it at him. "This is your fault," she said to Patrick.

Pete stood in front of Patrick, shielding him from her gun. He said, "You've got no one to blame but yourself. And Punch, and Mr. Toad, and Pippi."

She stared at him for a moment, then said, "Who are you?"

"Don't you recognize Peter Pan when you see him?" Pete asked with a grin.

Her jaw dropped. "No."

"Yep," he replied. Pete wanted to rush forward and snap her neck. But he didn't want to kill someone in front of Patrick. This night had been hard enough on him as it was, Pete didn't want to add 'witness for the prosecution' to it. Though good luck prosecuting a corpse. He surged forward, knocking the gun out of Judy's hand and making her cry out. "I'm not going to kill you yet."

"Why not?" She asked, choking on sobs.

"Because I want you to get a message to Hook and the others," Pete said. "Can you do that for me?"

Judy nodded, though she was shaking. The rain continued to fall, washing Punch's blood down the alley.

"You're going to tell them Pan is back," he said. "Tell them I'm coming for them tonight. And if any of you so much as touch a hair on Patrick Stump's head, I'm going to send you all to hell together. You got that?"

She nodded again, and Pete dragged her to her feet, pushing her away.

"Good, get going," he hissed, and Judy ran.

Pete looked down at Punch's body and only regretted that he wasn't able to make him suffer more before death. He grabbed the gun and shoved it into his waistband before turning to face Patrick.

He was staring at Pete, and he whispered, "What the fuck do they want with me?"

"I don't know," Pete admitted. "But I'm not going to let them hurt you. We need to find a place for you to hide."

"I have an idea."

* * *

It was a bad idea, but it was the one place Patrick knew no one would look for the two of them. Especially since he was the one person that Patrick never wanted to see again after he and Pete had broken up.

When he opened the door, Mikey adjusted his glasses and looked at them, saying, "What the fuck? Patrick?"

"Can we come in?" Patrick asked, Pete standing just behind him.

Mikey, ever implacable, instead of asking questions, simply stepped aside.

They went in, and Patrick shivered, still soaked through from the rain. The house was still crumbling, and it didn't look as though Mikey was making any progress on repairs. There was no electricity still, and he had candles everywhere.

"Pete," Mikey said quietly, and Pete looked at him. It made Patrick's heartache.

He knew that Pete and Mikey hadn't slept together. But Patrick had caught them making out at a house party Pete had dragged him to, and that had broken Patrick's heart. Pete had tried to explain, but Patrick hadn't wanted to hear it. And now here they were, going to Mikey for help.

"Hey Mikey," Pete said.

"When did you come back from the dead?" Mikey asked.

"Tonight."

"Hm, on the anniversary, of course." He walked further into the house and asked, "Anyone want anything to drink?"

"You don't seem to be surprised by this," Patrick said as he followed Mikey.

"I've seen it before," he replied.

"What?" Pete and Patrick said in unison, then looked at each other.

Mikey turned and shrugged. "It's a long story. But it happens. A soul dies in great pain, rage, and grief. That soul can't rest in peace. Sometimes, the soul comes back and is given a chance to set things right."

"So that's why I've gone all X-Men?" Pete asked.

He didn't answer, instead, Mikey went into the kitchen. He came back with three mugs of coffee, handing one each to Patrick and Pete before sipping his own and sighing.

Pete was looking around, and he asked, "Are you squatting here?"

"I own it," Mikey replied. "Been trying to fix it up."

"Why would you buy a crappy place like this?"

"It's where they dumped your bodies. After you died, I kind of… I needed to focus on something else. I thought maybe I could fix this place up, turn it into a music venue for all ages. Like you always wanted to do."

Pete paused, then said to Patrick, "And this is where you think no one's going to look for us?"

"Mikey and I don't exactly get along," Patrick replied. "I wouldn't look for me here."

"He's got a point," Mikey said.

Pete sighed, and the crow on his shoulder made a soft noise Patrick couldn't identify. Pete went to the window and opened it, letting the crow go outside. Once he closed the window again, he said, "So, you've seen something like me before."

Miky nodded. "You remember my brother?"

"I remember you told me he died," Pete replied.

Patrick hadn't known that. Hell, he didn't know Mikey had any siblings, Patrick thought he was an only child.

"Yeah, he did, violently," Mikey replied. "He and his girlfriend. It was their date night and… I never found out the details of what happened. But they were murdered. A year later, Gerard showed up at our house when Mom and Dad weren't home with this big fuckin' bird flying around him and raving about getting revenge."

"Did he?" Patrick asked.

Mikey drank his coffee. "Yeah, got the guys who did it. Then he was gone again. I never told anyone about it because they'd probably cart me off to the looney bin."

"So, Pete came back with a purpose," said Patrick, and Mikey nodded.

"Yeah. Once you get your revenge," he said to Pete, "you can rest."

Pete looked stricken, and he said, "I don't want to die."

"You're already dead," Mikey said. "Nothing's going to change that. You need to do what you returned to do, and move on."

"What happens if I don't?"

"Then you'll never rest in peace. Is that what you want, Pete? To wander the world in pain and anguish for eternity?"

Pete's eyes were welling with tears, and Patrick couldn't blame him, he wanted to cry too. He'd just gotten Pete back, and now he was going to lose him again? He wasn't sure that he could take it. In the same breath, he hated the idea of Pete becoming some kind of ghost, unable to find some semblance of peace.

Pete wiped at his face, and miraculously, the makeup he was wearing didn't smudge. "Okay. I need to find the rest of them, and stop them before they do whatever the hell it is they're trying to do to Patrick."

"If you can tell me who killed you, maybe I can find something online," Mikey replied. He went to the table and turned on the laptop, booting it up and setting the coffee aside.

"I only know their street names," Pete said. "They're named after nursery characters. Mr. Toad, Punch and Judy, and Pippi Longstocking. But they're just the foot soldiers. They work for this guy who calls himself Hook. He's got one of those nasty ass hay bale hooks, like the Candyman."

"You would get murdered by a LARPer," Mikey muttered.

"Fuck you!" But then Pete suddenly paused.

"What is it?" Mikey asked.

"I'm seeing something," Pete replied. "The crow, it's back at Hook's place."

"What's happening?" Patrick asked.

Pete was still, then he said, "It's Judy, she got my message to him. Hook called her a coward for running and cut her throat."

"Jesus," Mikey whispered. "Okay yeah, we gotta find out who this guy is."

Patrick sighed and went to get more coffee. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Pete wasn't happy. Which was kind of the entire point of his being back. He was here to get revenge and then he was out. Didn't make the fact he couldn't stay with Patrick any easier. After he gave all the details to Mikey and set him on his search, he noticed Patrick wasn't in the room. So Pete went to track him down.

He found him in what probably used to be the family room. The walls had been knocked out, and there was a rickety stage in the corner. Patrick was sitting on the lip of it, fiddling with a guitar. Pete couldn't help smiling. Leave it to Patrick to find one of the few instruments.

"Everything okay?" Pete asked, and Patrick shrugged.

"Just, nervous I guess," Patrick replied.

Pete sat next to him and said, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Patrick asked.

"I'm sorry for everything," Pete replied.

Patrick looked up at him, eyebrows knit in confusion, and Pete continued.

"I'm sorry for getting you roped into this, I'm sorry for scaring you, and I'm sorry for being such an asshole back then. I shouldn't have kissed Mikey. I guess… I think I was testing you."

"What for?"

Pete sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Because you're so good, you know? You've got that golden voice, you can play any instrument, and the music you write is killer. You're gonna go places someday, Patrick. With or without me, I knew you would. I mean... Obviously, without me now. So I thought to myself, what would it take for you to wise up and leave me? I was trying to bring things to a head."

"That's fucked up."

"I know."

Patrick put the guitar aside. "Then why did you want to talk to me after?"

"I realized I'd made a huge fucking mistake," Pete replied. "I was going to beg your forgiveness and promise to do anything you asked me to make it up to you up to and including stabbing myself in the eye."

"Jesus, Peter!"

"I wasn't going to do it! Well, okay, I might have if you asked me."

Patrick snorted and shook his head. "I wish we had gotten a chance to talk about it. I could have told you I wasn't going to leave."

"Yeah?" Pete scooted closer to Patrick. "You sure?"

"Yeah. I mean, I was kind of in love with you." Patrick was blushing and refusing to look Pete in the face.

He turned Patrick's head, and said, "I had no idea. I'm so sorry, Patrick."

"I was working my way up to saying something," Patrick replied.

"Yeah I… I love you too, it's why I was being such an asshole. And, Patrick, I…" Pete stared at him for a moment, then cupped Patrick's face in his hand and kissed him.

It was a brief brush of lips, but Patrick sighed happily. Pete's heart leaped, and his hands sunk in Patrick's hair, nearly knocking his hat off. Patrick deepened the kiss, and Pete moaned as he did. For just a moment, he could forget everything. The pain, the rage, his mission. Just this one moment where he and Patrick loved each other.

"Hey guys, I think I found the--fuck, excuse me."

They broke away just in time to see Mikey turn the corner and leave the room.

Patrick looked dazed, but he snapped out of it and followed Mikey out. Pete cursed to himself and did the same.

Mikey for his part was kind enough to keep his opinions to himself. He had the laptop up and asked, "Are these the guys?"

Pete looked at the image on the screen, and his blood boiled. There they were, laughing at the camera. "Yes," he growled.

"They're called the Nursery Gang. They're pretty notorious in Chicago because it's rumored they're backed by this man," Mikey said, clicking to the next page. It was Hook all right, but he looked very different. He wore a burgundy three-piece suit and was shaking hands with the mayor. Pete heard Patrick gasp.

"Who is he when he's not Captain Hook?" Pete asked.

"Supposedly, one of the idle rich," said Mikey. "His name is James Stacy. His cover story is that his family fortune is old money from the 1800s, but in fact, it started from bootleg liquor in the '20s and went downhill from there. They say if there's a new drug craze in town, Stacy's got a hand in it."

"When me and the guys ran across the Nursery Gang, they were killing off old Sal. Why would Stacy want him dead?" Pete asked.

"You know how Sal was," Patrick said. "If these guys were dealing drugs and Sal knew about it, he'd have kicked them and the dealers right out of his club."

"Which means it was probably a revenge gig and you, Andy, and Joe were in the wrong place at the wrong time," Mikey concluded.

"Then what the hell would he want with Patrick?"

"He wants me to sing," Patrick replied.

Both Pete and Mikey turned to look at him. "What?" Pete asked, incredulously.

Patrick was hugging himself as he said, "He came by the campus music rooms on a tour when I was practicing and heard me sing. He said it was the purest sound he'd ever heard and asked if I'd perform at a private party he's giving tomorrow and he'd give me a thousand dollars for it. I swear, I didn't know about any of the gang stuff."

Pete was about to ask for more details when he froze. The crow was on the roof of the old mansion, and there were cars outside. "They're here," Pete told them. He didn't hesitate, he ran outside with the gun in his belt band and knife in hand. Patrick called after him, but Pete ignored him. If they wanted Patrick, they'd have to get through him.

Outside, the storm was still raging, and Pete was ready for them. There were six, Pippi among them, and she shrieked, "Kill him!"

The men shot at Pete, but the bullets didn't even slow him down. He howled with rage, remembering how Pippi had laughed at him. Taunted him as he was forced to the ledge. Pete stabbed one man, shot another, and got the guns from them both. He then opened fire on the other three and they were dead in seconds.

Pippi was hurt, Pete could see that. However, she was packing a small surprise of her own. She grinned and aimed what looked like a juiced-up air rifle at him. It was only when he saw the nozzle that Pete knew what it was. He threw up his hands to protect his face as Pippi fired the flamethrower at him.

Pete didn't feel the heat or even pain. It was like he was surrounded by mist. He could hear Pippi laughing, and he cried out as he remembered her laugh when Joe had been thrown off the roof. He screamed as he remembered his friend's death, and surged forward.

He took the flamethrower from Pippi and snapped it in half, ripping it out of her hands. Pete smashed it across her face and knocked her to the ground. Pippi still had the gas tank on her back, and it was leaking. She seemed to realize this at the same time Pete did, and her eyes widened. He said, "Hope that hell is hot enough for you." Pete then used the flame at the end of the nozzle to light the gas on fire.

He took a few steps back as the tank ignited. Pippi screamed and the explosion nearly knocked Pete off his feet.

Once the smoke cleared, he saw Mikey standing on the steps in front of the mansion. There was a gash on his forehead and his glasses were broken. Pete ran to his side and asked, "What happened?"

"Some chick in green got Patrick," Mikey replied.

* * *

Patrick didn't remember being knocked unconscious but knew it must have happened. When he woke up, he was lying on a bed of velvet, and his head was throbbing. "Fuck," He whimpered, sitting up.

"Watch your language."

"Hook," Patrick said, and jumped out of bed, pressing himself against the wall.

"Do not fear me," said Hook, coming closer. "I won't hurt you."

"Bullshit. You killed my friends."

Hook stared at him for a moment, and then asked, "Your friends?"

"Pete, Andy, and Joe."

"Oh, Peter Pan and the Lost Boys. Yes, I suppose I did. However, they had been corrupted by the influences of this world. So many have, it's disheartening." Hook was leering at Patrick. "But not you."

Patrick blinked. "Come again?"

"Your voice, your purity is so clear. There is no corruption in you."

He couldn't help it, he started laughing. Patrick laughed so hard he started coughing and had to thump his chest to clear it. "You're insane. There's no such thing! Do you think I'm pure? Well, I'm not a virgin, I swear like a sailor, and I drink like a fish. I like sex and vice, but that doesn't matter because my voice is all me, pure and simple. I can't sing the way I do because I've never gotten a blowjob in the back of a van. I can sing the way I do because I have the range and the skill to pull it off. If you think my sex life or this horrible world has any effect on it you're a fucking idiot!"

As he spoke, Patrick had been inching closer to Hook, who was recoiling from him. When Hook took a full step back, Patrick took his chance. He shoved past Hook and ran for the door. He was nearly there when something smacked him in the back of the legs and knocked him to the floor.

Hook rolled him onto his back, snarling in his face, "You lying whore! Your purity is a lie?!"

"I never lied and you're a moron! And if you think Pete's going to lie down and play dead you're even dumber than I thought!"

"I'm aware that Peter Pan has returned," Hook replied. "He'll come for you, Wendy. And we have something waiting for him."

"I'm Patrick," he snarled and tried to throw Hook off.

Instead, he got a smack to the face that made his head spin. He was dragged to his feet and escorted out of the room.

They were in an office, with large doors leading out to a balcony. As they looked down, it was to see Pete was arriving. "He'll have to fight his way through the ship to get to you. Once he does, his familiar will be no use to him."

"What do you mean?" Patrick asked.

"His powers, my boy," said Hook. "Are tied to his feathered friend. We will capture the bird and kill it, and Peter Pan will be a normal boy once again. He will have to risk his second life to save you."

"No! Pete!" Patrick yelled. He elbowed Hook in the stomach and ran to the railing. "Stay away! It's a trap! Get out of here!"

Hook grabbed Patrick and backhanded him again, but held him tight. Patrick's heart sank as Pete walked into the building, the crow flying behind him.

* * *

Pete had made a pit stop before arriving at the building. He didn't have much in the way of weapons, but he knew where to get them. He wasn't suddenly some kung fu expert but he could at least fire a gun, and those guys that had been sent to kill him had plenty of those. He'd stripped the bodies of weapons and stolen one of their cars.

When Pete arrived at the building, his heart froze when he heard Patrick yelling. He couldn't hear the exact words, but Pete knew he had to get him out of there. Pete did not have a plan, he didn't have an idea or even a notion. But he was going to go in there and fuck them up.

When he entered the lobby, he was confronted by four guys, each with an AR-15. They opened fire, and Pete let the bullets rip through him. The crow had flown out of the way and over their heads. Pete looked through the bird's eyes as the men shot at him, getting a layout of the building. Patrick was at the top floor, and it was a straight shot up from the stairs.

When they'd run out of bullets, Pete ran at them, roaring. He shot each of them in the face, then dashed up the stairs.

As Pete ascended, the occasional person would pop out of nowhere to stop him. He didn't slow his pace, shooting whoever was stupid enough to get in his way. When he ran out of bullets, he pulled out the dagger Mikey had given him.

The dagger Mikey said his brother had used to kill the man who had killed his girlfriend.

Pete desperately hoped he would be able to do the same.

However, when he reached the penthouse floor, there was a problem. Smee and Tink were guarding the door. Smee had a gun trained on Pete, while Tink was holding the crow against her body, a knife against the bird's chest.

"Turn around, go back the way you came, or you're done for," Smee said.

"Fuck you," Pete hissed and lunged for him.

Tink stabbed the crow, and it went through Pete like a hot poker burning through his chest. Pete could hardly breathe from pain. Smee in turn shot him, the bullet going through his shoulder. Only this time, Pete didn't heal.

He was vulnerable again.

Pete dropped to his hands and knees, the pain overwhelming him. Tears sprang to his eyes. How could it end like this? His vision was getting fuzzy as Smee shot him again, this time wounding his back. Smee was suddenly standing over him, the gun pressed to the back of his head. He was sure that he was done for. And then, Pete heard something. Something that gave him the strength to fight.

Patrick was crying.

Pete screamed as he got to his feet again. Smee was so surprised he dropped the gun. Pete used his upward momentum to bury the dagger in Smee's stomach, so deeply it pierced Smee's heart and went through his back. Pete pulled the dagger out and let Smee's body fall to the ground, stepping over it as he stalked towards Tink.

She in turn still had the crow, which was struggling as it slowly bled to death.

"Stay away from me!" She said, waving the knife at him.

Pete grinned, and then rushed at her and yelled "Boo!"

Tink jumped and dropped the crow. She lost her footing and screamed as she went over the railing of the balcony. Pete heard a sickening crunch at the bottom of the stairwell and knew that Tink was dead.

"Guess pixie dust ain't gonna help you now," Pete said.

He then knelt by the crow, who was barely hanging on to life. Pete stroked its feathers and said, "You got me this far. I have to go the rest of the way. Rest now." The crow seemed to hear him and was lying deathly still.

Pete got up, dagger still in hand, and threw open the doors to Hook's office. Finding it empty, he went to the balcony, and found Hook there, holding Patrick near the edge, and Pete saw red.

Immortal or not, he was going to kick Hook's ass and save Patrick. Nothing would stop him.

* * *

When the doors opened, Patrick let out a sob.

Pete was still alive. But just barely.

When Patrick heard the crow cawing and the shots from Smee's gun, Patrick thought for sure that Pete was dead. Seeing him now, he didn't look great. But his eyes were full of fire as he stormed towards Patrick and Hook.

"Let him go, right now. This is between you and me," Pete said.

"I daresay you're right," Hook said. He was holding Patrick's arm tightly in one hand and had pressed the hay hook to his throat. "But why would I want to play fair?"

"Let him go!" Pete yelled.

"As you wish, Peter, as you wish," said Hook.

He let go of Patrick and then shoved him off the balcony. Patrick screamed, and scrambled for something to grab so he wouldn't fall. He was lucky, he managed to grab the lip of the balcony. He heard Pete yell, then the sound of fighting.

Patrick was not a fit person, and never had been. He'd never managed a pull up in his life. But he did now because it was either pull himself up or die. His arms were shaking with the effort, and his lungs screamed for oxygen as he put all his strength into getting back on solid ground. It was made even more difficult by the rain that hadn't stopped for even a second the entire night.

He lost his glasses and his hat and was nearly blind as he finally rolled his body back onto the balcony. When he sat up, it was to see Hook standing over Pete, the hook under his chin. "And so perished Pan," Hook said, and moved back to strike.

Patrick had only seconds to act. He saw the dagger only inches away from him, and the hook coming down. He grabbed the weapon and sprinted, slamming Hook into the wall and shoving the dagger into his side.

A strange numb feeling went through him, and Patrick realized Hook had driven the hook through his neck, piercing his throat. Blood was flowing out of his mouth, and Patrick let go of the dagger. The hook was pulled free, and Patrick knew that he was dying. He could hear Pete screaming, but his vision had gone gray.

The last thing Patrick felt was a strange flying sensation, and then he was gone.

* * *

Pete screamed when Patrick dropped off the balcony and fought Hook with the ferocity of a wild tiger. Hook however was too fast and clever, and he had Pete on his knees in moments. When Patrick appeared again, Pete thought that there must be a God. Until Hook pierced Patrick's neck and pushed him off the balcony again.

He got back to his feet, pulling the dagger out of Hook's stomach and throwing him to the ground. Pete straddled him, and stabbed him again and again, crying and wailing as he did. Patrick was dead, Andy was dead, Joe was dead, because of this asshole. And he was going to make him suffer before he died.

Hook tried to fend him off at first, but as Pete continued to stab him, he became weak from blood loss. When his stomach was a bloody mess, Hook said, "Mercy! Please, mercy."

"Why should I show you mercy?" Pete asked. He was starting to become dizzy with the effort, and knew he was dying as well.

"I'm done for, my boy," said Hook. "I'll die regardless. Please, I beg you to spare me any more pain."

Pete let out a hysterical laugh. "You want mercy? I'll show you the kind of mercy I think you deserve."

The hook was lying on the ground next to Pete. He sunk it into Hook's stomach and used it to hold his body over the balcony's edge. He let Hook swing there for a moment, whimpers and pleading issuing from his throat. Then Pete let go. He watched as Hook bounced off the side of the building, and his body hit the street below. Pete wanted to get down there and run him over with the car.

When he walked out into the stairwell, it was to see the crow was gone. Pete knew his time was short. Death was returning to his limbs, and it didn't make walking any easier. He was numb to the pain now, so he felt nothing as he reached the bottom of the steps and walked out into the night.

Hook was dead, lying face up and staring up at the sky. The rain had washed most of the blood away, but his skull had cracked open like an egg on the pavement. Pete ignored him and turned to Patrick.

He was curled up on the sidewalk like he'd fallen asleep there. Pete sobbed and wrapped himself around Patrick, whispering, "I'm so sorry." Patrick was dead because of him.

"It's okay."

Pete looked up to see Patrick standing over him.

He was wearing all white, and a beautiful golden light surrounded him. "Come on, it's time to go."

"Patrick?"

He smiled. "Yeah, come on Pete, they're waiting for us."

Pete took Patrick's hand and followed him into the light.

They found themselves in a white room with gold accents, and Pete felt at peace for the first time since his murder. There were white roses and peonies in a vase nearby, and Pete smiled when he saw a drumset in the middle of the room.

"Where are we?" Pete asked.

"Pete!"

He looked up as Joe and Andy ran down the stairs, both wearing white as well and grinning at him. They enveloped him in a hug, Patrick joining them. Pete realized that he was crying.

"You're okay!" Pete said and smiled.

"We were so worried about you," Joe said.

"Patrick told us what happened," Andy added. "He said you might need a little extra help finding us so he went back for you."

Pete paused and looked around, taking in their surroundings, that all of them were dressed in white. That he was… Content.

"Is this heaven?" He asked.

"Yep," Patrick said. "I didn't want to leave without you, so when Andy and Joe came to get me I waited for you."

Pete grinned and pulled Patrick in for a kiss. "I love you."

"I love you too," Patrick replied.

"So… Heaven, huh? What's there to do around here?" Pete asked.

Joe laughed "We could jam for a while?"

"I'm in," Pete said.

"Me too," said Andy, getting behind the drum kit.

Joe handed Pete a bass and asked Patrick, "What about you?"

"Yeah, we can jam for a while," Patrick said, and he picked up a guitar.

And so they played.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](https://talkingcinemalight.tumblr.com/)


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